Hypocrite
by ckret2
Summary: Post Energon. An Autobot rookie isn't satisfied with the way the Autobots are being run, especially when it comes to Inferno's policies. Unfortunately, he's not smart enough to figure out what he dislikes and is just stupid enough to open his mouth.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I don't own anything except the plot, Rewound, Rally, and Superfluous, High Command, Low Command, and various plot thingies. I also own Rewound's eyes. I want his eyes… All else belongs to HasTak._

_Various niftiness is attributed to Seiber and Pivot, who betaed. If anyone else betaed (months ago…) and I forgot you, I am very, very sorry. Email me in great anger._

_The chapters end without warning. This was a freakishly long one-shot that got cut into four pieces. If the chapter ends suddenly and you freak out, DON'T. It's SUPPOSED to do that. Expect weekly installations, four in all. Yay for steady updates!_

Hypocrite

Chapter 1

"I think we've found two more Decepticons. Is anyone here not too overenergized to function?" The unfortunate Autobot on monitor duty turned around to give his buddies a smirk. "But you've been off-duty ten minutes now, haven't you? We'll have to find someone else, I suppose."

"Shut up, Superfluous," one grumbled, putting his legs on the table in front of him and turning on the lounge's holoscreen. "It's been fourteen minutes."

"Ah, my mistake. Terribly sorry, Rally," Superfluous said, chuckling. "I'll find an Autobot still on-duty to do reconnaissance. Most likely it will have to be someone in High Command."

Rewound sneered into his arm, optics slightly glazed from staring out into the city for the past two hours since he'd gone off-duty. The high-and-mighty Autobot High Command ran both the Cybertronian government and Low Command, which ran the law enforcement. They weren't really two different organizations, though; High and Low was just a division between the generals and the privates in Cybertron's army/government. A division between the arrogant cretins that ran things and the arrogant cretins that didn't.

As Superfluous turned on the computer's comlink, he said, "You might want to move your legs. You'll get tire tracks on the table again."

"So?" Rally adjusted his legs, purposely scraping a black streak of rubber off the tires on his heels onto the dull bronze table. "It's a crummy table anyway. The crummier it gets, the sooner we get funding to replace it."

"They'll leave ya with the crummy table," Rewound said, not even glancing at Rally. "Ya know 'Bots don't get money for stuff like that unless they're stationed at the High Command Center. We're Low Command Station 22 or 16 or somethin'."

"And what do you know about that?" Rally said irritably. "How long have you been off the assembly line, anyway? Three months? Four, tops. What's your serial number?"

"Don't have one. I wasn't made in a factory." Rewound tried to ignore what was most likely a startled silence from the listeners. If he hadn't been built in a factory, then the only alternative was sparking. Sparking had always been rare, but now it was almost shunned among Autobots. To spark a new lifeform, the creator must be desperate for someone to help him and unable to turn to the government for assistance. Either that or the creator thought that by providing the Autobots with a loyal mind to mold he could gain amnesty for previous crimes. The poor and those hiding from the Autobots sparked lifeforms, including former Decepticons, rebellious Minicons, Terrorcons that escaped from the Energon mines, and neutrals on the wrong side of the law.

Rewound had no idea who his creator was. He knew that he had a standard CPU, basic programming, regular body construction, and a normal spark. Plus, his memories of receiving his Autobot programs and being registered into the Autobot Low Command Academy didn't seem to include anyone pleading for a pardon. The only reasons he knew he hadn't been factory-built were that only Transformers built outside the factories had to be programmed and registered in the Academy and his CPU didn't have the serial code and digital watermark of a factory.

There wasn't anything wrong with him, but that didn't keep other Autobots from distrusting him. Rewound had never actually heard anyone say anything, but he could imagine the whispers. Street-slag. Son of a Cessna. Child of a Terrorcon beast. Demonic, disgusting, disgraceful Decepticon spawn.

He had often been told that it was his paranoia that kept others from trusting him. Rewound usually said that he wasn't paranoid, just on guard, because everyone always wanted to get rid of the less-than-perfect Autobots. The 'Bots he was talking to then claimed he'd proved their point. Rewound often wondered if those guys realized how stupid they sounded.

Superfluous was apparently ignoring the minor drama behind him. Rewound hear him attempt to contact High Command over the computer's comlink. He knew it would probably be at least ten minutes before anyone bothered to respond. High Command didn't give a slag obout Low Command.

Rewound shifted his arm to lean his forehead against the window, digging his heels into the floor so he didn't slide off the edge of his chair. From here, Iacon didn't seem like the hotbed of crime and conflict it was described as in the Academy. There were no shouts, no gunshots, and no sirens, unless the Autobots were making an arrest. Someone in High Command that Rewound had met at the Academy had mentioned the oddity once. Rewound had never thought of it again until he graduated from the Academy and moved out into the city. The Officer had been right. Rewound tried to listen to Superfluous, ignoring the silence of the city.

Rewound never wanted to associate himself with that High Command hypocrite.

Rewound heard Superfluous request to speak to a High Command Officer. Surprisingly, someone responded immediately. Without pulling his gaze away from the city, Rewound silently listened in on the conversation. This must have been something important, if High Command responded so soon…

"This is High Command Officer Inferno. What do you have to report?"

Rewound jerked his head up automatically at the voice. He almost slid out of his seat but quickly pulled himself up again. Inferno, the hypocrite! Speak of the devil and he appears. What was _he_ doing on the comlink!

He'd been the one that had told Rewound about the silence of the city. He'd also made it a point to mention every flaw he noticed in the Autobot social structure. Inferno derided the Autobots, almost to the point of sedition, yet he never acted on his words. He still fought alongside the Autobots and followed every order, yet pointed out what he didn't like when they weren't listening. And he always seemed to do it around Rewound. Rewound couldn't stand him.

"Iacon Low Command Station 16 reporting, sir. We've recently been informed of the location of two possible Decepticons, on the outskirts of the city."

"Two of them?"

Rewound lifted his head. Inferno sounded surprised, which was perfectly normal considering the situation. It wasn't often two Decepticons were found simultaneously. For some time after the Resurrection War, they had tried to stick in groups. But after about a month it became almost impossible to find them together. Most high-ranking officers who'd had experience with the Decepticons believed that when they had discovered that group tactics didn't give them any advantage, they'd decided to split up and make themselves harder to find.

But what wasn't normal was that Inferno sounded almost scared. He was a highly-decorated veteran of the Resurrection War. How could he be afraid of a couple of Decepticons? Rewound turned around gleefully, eager to see fear on Inferno's face.

But Inferno had his blandly unemotional mask back on by the time Rewound saw him. Rewound grimaced, trying not to show any other signs of annoyance. Autobots, after all, weren't supposed to hate their "fellow" Autobots.

"That is what we think right now, yes," Superfluous said. He pulled up a text report on another monitor and glanced at it as he spoke to Inferno. "A garbage collector was transporting waste materials to one of the junkyards on the outskirts of the city when he spotted two Cybertronians on the edges of the junkyard. When they saw him approaching, they fled _into_ the junkyard and disappeared. They appear to be adept at hiding in this area, so it's suspected that they're living in the junkyard."

Inferno nodded sharply. "I see. And what makes you certain that these Cybertronians are Decepticons?"

Superfluous paused. "Well… the witness claims that they resembled two of the top soldiers from Megatron's forces."

"They do?" Inferno's optics blazed momentarily. His voice was almost a little too excited. And, once again, scared. Controlling himself again, he asked, "Which two?"

Superfluous paused again. "He said they looked like Snowcat and Demolisher, sir. I know, it sounds preposterous. They were thought to have committed suicide along with Megatron and his other top officers. But the witness gave us authorization for an optic memory scan, and this is what we came up with." Superfluous opened another file, gave it a cursory glance, and sent it to Inferno.

Optic memory scans recorded residual impressions made by light on optic fibers. The impressions lasted for only a brief time before fading, and all the images seen would be layered on top of each other. However, skilled technicians with good artistic senses could extract a solid scene from a scan a couple of hours after the scene was witnessed.

Rewound pulled up telescoping lenses behind his primary optics to zoom in on the open image. Phantom lines and colors cluttered the image, completely overlapping and mixing around the edges, but in the middle was a fairly detailed, complete image of two Cybertronians. Both appeared to have ground bound alt-modes and were fairly stout. One, wearing a complete facemask, was icy blue and white with occasional dark red highlights. The other, with a visor in place of optics and no sign of a mouth, was dark green and had what looked like a dump truck bed attached to his back. Both were dented and dirty, but they didn't look weak.

Inferno's optics blazed again as he saw the image, again with mingled excitement and fear. "Yes… they definitely look like Snowcat and Demolisher. We'll have to be careful in approaching them. Out of all the remaining Decepticons, they're the most likely to fight back."

Snowcat and Demolisher. Rewound thought he had heard of them. When he really concentrated, he could recall a few lessons in the Academy that had mentioned them when talking about the Resurrection War, describing them as dangerous loose-cannon Decepticons and two of Megatron's most trusted subordinates. What Rewound remembered the most was that Snowcat yodeled and Demolisher had a giant Decepticon sigil, which seemed to be gone in the optic memory scan. Beyond that, Rewound couldn't remember much. He'd graduated using fighting ability, not random history trivia.

Inferno's gaze dropped from the screen and his hands moved over his own keyboard. "I'll find someone here to reconnoiter the area," he said, apparently looking at another monitor on his side of the comlink. "I doubt anyone below the elite would be able to survive an encounter with those two. If we find anything I'll contact you for backup."

That could mean Inferno thought the others weren't good enough for this mission. But Rewound was sure it meant that Inferno wanted all the glory for the capture of the Decepticon rebels himself. Inferno, the hypocritical slagger, the liar and the coward, to get the credit for a discovery that wasn't even his! Rewound wouldn't stand for that anymore.

"Sir! Requesting permission to do recon of the junkyard for the criminals, sir!" Rewound glared unflinchingly into Inferno's optics on the computer screen, all the way across the room, standing rigidly beside his chair. To his zoomed-in optics, he realized, Inferno looked a lot closer to him than he did to Inferno. Or anyone else in the lounge.

Everyone turned to look at Rewound. Half of them hadn't even been paying attention to the conversation, and none of them had ever seen Rewound volunteer to do anything on his own. They'd never even seen him hold a door open for someone right behind him. Rewound didn't break his gaze, optics bright and hard as diamonds.

To Rewound's indignation, Inferno almost looked pleased.

"That is ridiculous!" Superfluous said. "You only graduated from the Academy two months ago. You don't have any idea how dangerous real Decepticons are."

"What do mosta these guys got?" Rewound asked, forgetting his attempt to speak like a proper Officer. "A year on me, tops, and they probably took three times as long as me to graduate. Besides, ya don't know anything about Decepticons either."

Rally apparently did some math. It was, Rewound figured, a bit of a struggle for him. If the average time to graduate was six months, then Rewound had graduated in two months, and add that to the two months since then… "Ha! So you are only four months old. What can a rookie like you do, huh?"

"I can fight a lot better than ya," Rewound said, crouching in preparation for a battle.

Rally stared at him, baffled. Autobots simply didn't fight each other. Was that what came from being sparked by Primus-knows-what?

"Perhaps recon would be a good opportunity for you to gain some real experience, Rewound," Inferno broke in, distracting Rewound from his challenge. A ghost of a smile flitted across Inferno's face, but it was gone before Rewound could demand he explain what it meant. He was always doing that, at the most insignificant comments. Worse, Rewound never knew why.

"S-sir!" Superfluous said. "Are you sure you want to send Rewound? He doesn't have a strong record. He is known to be…" Superfluous paused, glancing at Rewound. "He is sometimes…"

"Rude? Impatient? Suspicious? Sarcastic?" Rewound offered. He'd heard the first three many times. The fourth was his addition. He thought he'd be pretty sarcastic if he didn't ignore everyone all the time.

"Insubordinate," Inferno concluded, but gave Rewound another half-smile. "I think this mission would be good for him. Come to the High Command Center and I'll fill you in on the details."

Rewound tried to say "Yessir," but ended up muttering, "Yeah, sure." He had wanted this mission to prove that he didn't need more experience. Inferno had used it to prove that he did. He couldn't back out now without proving Inferno right.

"Be here in fifteen minutes," Inferno said and cut the connection.

"I'll be there in forty-five," Rewound declared. As he left the lounge, he shoved Rally's back. The wheels on Rally's hips and ankles rolled him off the chair and dumped him on the floor.

Rewound left without a second glance, ignoring both Superfluous's protests and Rally's shouts.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2! Whoo! I wasn't going to include an Author's Note, but someone mentioned something silly that I did with Inferno's name and I figured I'd better explain._

_I watched Energon almost all the way through the series, and then started over on the Super Link fansubs and watched the series all the way through on that. I know slightly more about Super Link than Energon, and have seen it much more recently. So, I use the English names in fics, but I've seen the Japanese ones used more often. That means that in my head, Inferno is Inferno to the end of the series. In any case, all the random renaming in the official dubs drive my crazy, so I always called him by Inferno even before I saw Super Link. That's why he hasn't been renamed. So, yeah. No deep explanation, just an author flub. You can pretend he's called Roadblock if you want._

Hypocrite

Chapter 2

Rewound stared dubiously at the door to the High Command Center. To get in, he had to type in the code number, but the door rotated through five codes over a period of three days to prevent someone from learning one code and getting in. If he didn't get it right on the first try, all the security in the building would be swarming on him in seconds. He had narrowed it down to 2477180 or 9536452, unless he was off by a day…

The door slid open before Rewound even touched the keypad. "What took you so long?"

"Hi, Inferno. Do ya know the number?" Rewound said nonchalantly.

"You were not almost an hour late trying to remember the number," Inferno said, crossing his arms. "Even if the main roads were blocked, it shouldn't take any more than twenty minutes to drive here."

"Didn't drive," Rewound said. He hunched his shoulders slightly, showing the two empty axels where his tires had been attached to his back. He had been a three-wheeled red-orange motorcycle, with his third wheel as part of his lower back in robot mode, but if he transformed now the one wheel would be dragging the rest of him behind it.

Inferno glanced at the axels curiously, but didn't ask a question Rewound usually got. "Who has your tires now?"

"Er… I dunno. I sold 'em to some Terrorcon in the black market, how should I know what he did with…" Rewound shut his mouth. He'd just completely slagged himself. Inferno had put him off guard with that question, the jerk.

To Rewound's shock, Inferno just nodded. "If it was a Terrorcon, you might meet someone in the junkyard with your tires. Come on." Inferno typed in the code number too quickly for Rewound to see it and walked into the High Command Center without waiting for Rewound.

Fuming, Rewound followed. How dare Inferno make him freak out like that! And he was completely overlooking a highly treasonous crime. Rewound would report him without a second thought if his own skidplate wasn't on the line. Not that he cared about the authorities in the least; after all, he'd commited the original crime with complete disregard for authority. He just wanted an opportunity to get the hypocrite in trouble. Rewound spent the next few minutes alternating between shooting burning glares at Inferno's back and ignoring him completely.

"So, are ya gonna tell me what I need to do or what?" Rewound asked. They had spent five minutes walking through the High Command Center, which was apparently much bigger than it looked, and they were still on the first floor. From the outside, it was a plain red building with blue-tinted windows, supposedly some kind of representation of the Autobot sigil and common optic color. On the inside, however, it was merely halls and offices, white and an ugly shade of brown. Rewound wondered wryly if this was supposed to be a representation of what Autobots actually looked like on the inside.

Inferno didn't rely.

Rewound ran beside Inferno and leaned forward, looking at his face from an angle. "Hey, are yer audio circuits fried or what? I asked a question!"

"And I chose not to answer," Inferno said sharply. "Don't forget, I'm ranked higher than you'd ever want to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rewound snapped. "How do ya know anything about what I'd want, huh? And what gives ya the right to say that anyway? Do ya have any manners at all, or did ya lose them fighting the Decepticons?"

Inferno chuckled. "You should speak for yourself. If I want to, I could have you discharged from the Autobots for almost anything you've said to me today." He paused long enough for Rewound to break optic contact and glare at the floor. "We're headed to my office so I can give you your instructions."

"Primus, this guy is real prompt," Rewound muttered, and cringed when he heard Inferno laugh.

Inferno had also said enough to get himself in serious trouble. He'd allowed Rewound to get away with fraternizing with the enemy, and even seemed to know a bit about the black market and junkyard.

Rewound shuffled along behind Inferno, glaring sulkily at the floor. He, personally, was far from the model Autobot, but at least he wasn't pretending anything. The only reason he was a 'Bot was because it paid for his Energon and gave him an excuse to fight. He didn't profess any loyalty, and wouldn't as long as he didn't feel it. _He_ was no hypocrite, at least.

So why did Inferno keep acting like a perfect Autobot? And why was he letting Rewound see behind the act?

"So, did you get all that?" Inferno asked, rolling up a map of the junkyard.

"Course I did." It had hardly been worth the effort of coming down to Inferno's office, in the back of the building and then up two flights of stairs. All Inferno had done was show him a map of the junkyard with several routes though it, pointing out which one Snowcat and Demolisher had probably taken based on the background elements in the memory scan.

"Well, that's that." Rewound pulled himself out of the chair he had taken upon entering the room (based on the size, it was probably Inferno's, he noted cheerfully) and headed towards the door.

"Wait a moment." Inferno blocked Rewound with one arm. "Remember, you're on reconnaissance. If you see anything, you're to report to me before doing anything. And if I ask for visuals, I expect you to obey."

"What, don't want me to catch 'em before ya come save the day?" Rewound asked.

"Yes, that's it exactly. Sometimes your brilliance astounds me," Inferno said flatly. He withdrew his arm but didn't open the door. "Any questions?"

It took a moment for Rewound to realize he hadn't actually been complimented and come up with a suitably sarcastic retort. "Yeah, sure. Do I get a bonus for this?"

"If you want, we can give you the Decepticons' leftover parts to sell to the Terrorcons. Anything else?"

His retort shot down, Rewound thought a moment, but couldn't come up with anything else particularly snarky. Instead, he asked, "So what happens when ya catch those guys?"

"Hopefully, the end of their race," Inferno said. He flashed one of _those_ smiles and opened the door for Rewound before he could ask anything else. It was almost like he'd been waiting for that question.


	3. Chapter 3

Hypocrite

Chapter 3

Rewound picked his way through the junkyard, struggling to remember the exact route Inferno had shown him. It was a lot harder to navigate than he had thought. The routes weren't visible at all. There was only one thing that distinguished them from the rest of the junkyard; if you were on a path, your foothold wouldn't suddenly slide away or collapse on itself. And by the time you figured out where you were, it was probably too late to do much about it.

Rewound wondered how Inferno had managed to get a map of this place. He doubted anyone would explore the junkyard for fun. The only beings Rewound could imagine coming here were those hiding from the law. Decepticons and the like. Maybe Superfluous was right and he didn't know what he was up against (which, Rewound scoffed, was highly unlikely), but he had no idea what crime could be bad enough to make someone need to hide here.

The junkyard had no set topography. It was, as far as Rewound could tell, an endless plain of piles. The junk didn't form hills or peaks, just mounds of stuff. Rewound scrambled up one pile and balanced precariously on top, holding the leg of a broken chair, to figure out where he was. It wasn't easy; several hollowed-out, tilted buildings overshadowed the junkyard, forming a near fortress of walls and roofs overhead. Through the gloom Rewound spotted a low area where something sparkled. With his telescoping lenses he zoomed in as far as he could. The light was in deep enough shadows that Rewound couldn't tell what was causing it, but it didn't seem to be alive or just a part of the landscape. It was just a detached pinprick of light.

He lowered himself awkwardly down the other side of the junk pile and headed towards the low zone. He was already tensed for a battle, audio sensors straining for the sound of an ambush from any side, all his telescoping lenses retracted so he could see a greater area. The light might have been from Snowcat or Demolisher, and the other could be watching him right now. One would attack, and while they thought he was off-guard from the first, the other would attack. He'd fight them both off, catch them before they could run away, and contact Inferno to say he'd already taken care of the Decepticons. And after that…

"Hopefully, the end of their race." Rewound paused, balancing on a twisted pile of rusted machinery and the wing of a spacecraft. Their race. What was that supposed to mean? The Decepticons were just Cybertronians who'd joined the wrong army, right? Not a race. At least, that's how it had always been described to him. But if they were part of an army, then why didn't they switch allegiances when they lost the war, to protect themselves? Maybe it was impossible, like trying to make a squishy into a Cybertronian. Maybe that was what the phrase "Once a Decepticon, always a Decepticon" meant. They were just sparked as Decepticons and stayed that way; Minicons are Minicons and Terrorcons are Terrorcons, so Decepticons are Decepticons.

Realizing he'd stopped moving, Rewound headed towards the low zone again. He'd have to climb over another sloped line of junk, and then it would be just below him. He hadn't been attacked yet. Maybe the light wasn't the Decepticons.

Or maybe they were scared as petro-rabbits. Rewound smiled at the idea of the fierce warriors trembling in front of him and lifted his head over the crest of the slope to look down. He stopped smiling.

Below him, a naked light bulb crudely wired to an Energon cube lay on top of a flat, polished sheet of copper. Light bulbs were primitive, inefficient means of illumination. They were barely better than just setting the Energon cube on fire: they'd use up all the fuel, give off about the same light, and burn out just as quickly.

Surrounding the light were a little over twenty Transformers. Minicons, Terrorcons, and Decepticons still wearing their sigils, as well as a few factionless Cybertronians. Rewound stared at the group. Never before had he seen so many illegal beings together at the same time.

Illegal beings? What was illegal about them, the fact that they were alive? That they weren't Autobots? And who declared them illegal, Autobots?

A scowl crossed Rewound's face. "Hopefully, the end of their race." Why should Rewound help the Autobots get rid of them? Why was it so important to exterminate them? Who was the slagging genius that came up with that idea? Inferno, maybe? Maybe. He could proclaim their end in one second and then insist that the Autobots were here to protect all life in the next. But couldn't the other Autobots do that, too?

"Hey, you new around here?"

Rewound looked up, startled. Standing above him, with arms crossed and feet precariously balanced on the edge of a crumpled ship hull, was Snowcat himself. He looked a little different from the pictures Rewound had seen in the Academy. He was missing his tires, the cannons on his back, and his windshield glass. And he was much shorter than the pictures made him look. But still, Rewound was stunned. A Decepticon, one of Megatron's favorites, no less, a symbol of everything that was not Autobot, a lawbreaker and rebel simply for existing, was less than five feet from Rewound and speaking to him as casually as if they were two law-abiding neutrals on an Iaconian street.

"You're coming up the wrong part of the slope," Snowcat said, amused. "Go a bit to the left and you won't slide off the top."

"Oh. Um, sure." Rewound obeyed, climbed a little bit up, and let out a startled yelp as he slid to the bottom.

Snowcat cackled gleefully. Rewound forgot his annoyance to take note of the fact that his laugh did, indeed, sound like yodeling.

"S-sorry, my mistake," Snowcat said, still giggling. "You get down from there. You gotta to climb the other side to get up. C'mon, I'll show you." Not at all bothered by the strange landscape, Snowcat leapt down and headed around the slope, occasionally stopping to make sure Rewound was still following. So this was the vicious war criminal Rewound had heard so much about?

"Who's he?" The question came from someone looking over the top of the slope. He slid ungracefully down it and walked up to Snowcat. It was Demolisher, Rewound realized. He still had all his parts, but was also shorter than the pictures Rewound had seen. The pictures, apparently, were supposed to be intimidating rather than accurate. Rewound wondered if that meant Megatron wasn't really twice as tall as Optimus Prime and stained with dried mech-fluid.

"New guy," Snowcat said with a shrug, stopping to turn and look at Demolisher. Rewound gratefully took the pause to sit on a steady-looking metal sheet off of Primus-knew-what.

"You sure? Did you look at his chest?" Rewound's Autobot sigil was on his chest, on what became the bottom of his seat in motorcycle-mode.

"Everyone uses that for a disguise." Another shrug. "B'sides, no 'Bot would sell his tires."

"Unless _that_ was part of the disguise!" Demolisher hissed, grabbing Snowcat's arm to turn them away from Rewound. "Look at his paintjob. How do you explain_ it?_"

Snowcat glanced back at Rewound. For the first time, Rewound realized how dull all the other fugitives' paint had been. Most of them were completely gray, the rest faded and peeling. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he could remember that some of them had had small rust infections, which looked like they had been scraped at with a shovel to remove them. So this was what the end of their race was supposed to look like. And it was the Autobots' doing. The Autobot in him whispered, as it should, that they had done nothing to deserve this slow extinction. The rest of him, which completely ignored the Autobot, bellowed that the entire Autobot race was hypocritical for promoting peace and murder at the same time. Why was he an Autobot? He didn't support the Autobots enough to salute Prime, much less become a hypocrite like the others. But didn't that make him an even worse hypocrite, for working for them regardless? Rewound was disgusted with himself.

Rewound would not help the Autobots destroy the Decepticons.

"Listen, I'm not gonna turn ya in or anything. I'm not helping the 'Bots, okay? I quit."

"Oh, sure, we haven't heard that before," Demolisher said sarcastically. "And when did you quit, huh? Was it about ten seconds ago, maybe?"

Rewound paused. "Er, actually…"

Before he could say anything else, his comlink turned on with a burst of static. "Lower Command Officer Rewound, this is High Command. Have you found any sign of Snowcat or Demolisher yet?"

His comlink wasn't on very loud, but in the silent junkyard it was loud enough for Snowcat and Demolisher to hear. Rewound muttered a long string of curses, standing warily in preparation for an attack.

No one moved. Snowcat and Demolisher's optics were almost white with fear. In the gloom, they were the only things that stood out. Glimmering lights, two bright and two shielded behind a visor, hard and bright like diamondswaiting to be shattered. They wouldn't attack him, even if he gave their exact location, their condition, and how many other fugitives were with them.

Looking directly at Snowcat and Demolisher, Rewound said into his comlink, "Negative. I don't see nothing alive in the junkyard." Demolisher's optics flickered in a startled blink.

"Really? Anything dead?"

"Er… negative." Who was this? Rewound wondered. Snowcat giggled and was silenced by a smack from Demolisher.

"Hmm. Did you follow the map, Rewound?" So, Inferno was contacting him directly? Why?

"Uh, yessir. There's nothin' here," Rewound said.

Finally catching on to what was happening, Demolisher mimed applause. Snowcat dropped to his knees, hands clasped together in mock-praise. Demolisher and Rewound both glared at him. Rewound wondered if they were always this distracting. Perhaps that was the real reason they were one and two on the Autobots' Most Wanted list.

Inferno didn't respond for a long moment. "I've never known you to show any respect towards your superiors, Rewound. What are you up to?"

"N-nothing! Ya asked me if I'd found anything, and I didn't. That's it."

"Show me, then," Inferno ordered. Demolisher and Snowcat froze mid-celebration. "Send the visual data from your optics. I want to see what you're really up to."

Demolisher and Snowcat shook their heads vigorously.

Rewound wondered if he could look off at some random point in the distance and say that was what he saw. But Inferno would ask him to look around, and then he'd see anyway. Rewound could use his telescoping lenses to zoom in as he panned and look down, and say he was looking at a wall. If he did it right his zooming might disorient Inferno. Would that work?

"Rewound, do you know what happens to Autobots charged with assisting enemies, especially Decepticons?" Rewound didn't answer. "They're arrested as if they are that enemy and receive a trial as such. And even if you do manage to escape, a life like the one you have now will be impossible."

"Go slag yerself."

A long pause. "This is your final chance, Rewound. Either you show me, or I come to the junkyard and see for myself."

Either way, the junkyard would be swarming with Autobots. Everyone in it would be arrested. If Rewound sided with the Decepticons, he would be too. And if he wasn't arrested he'd have to hide with them, until his paint peeled to reveal rust infections underneath. He shuddered. Maybe they hadn't done anything wrong, but he hadn't either. He didn't want to live like a fugitive.

"Yes, sir," Rewound said softly, and began transmitting the visuals over his comlink. Already prepared, Snowcat started making dirty signs towards Rewound and whoever was on the other side of his comlink.

"But they're the only ones here," Rewound added quickly. "There's no one else in the junkyard, I swear."

"Rewound…" Inferno said. He sounded puzzled. "What are you talking about? I don't see anyone there." He paused. "Your job is done. You can return to High Command now."

"What!" Rewound and the two Decepticons stared at each other in shock. "But they're just… What do ya think yer doin'!"

"My duty, of course," Inferno said. "There's no one here, so I need to report that. Just like the other seventeen so-called 'sightings' of Transformers in the junkyard, including Wheeljack and four supposedly treasonous High Command Autobots. And now Snowcat and Demolisher. The junkyard seems to have inspired a few Autobots' imaginations. Don't you think so, Rewound?"

"Who's Wheeljack?" Rewound asked.

Snowcat yodeled/laughed. "That's the best question you got?" he said, trying to stay quiet. "Man! Did they stop programming common sense in 'Bots or what?"

"Shut up!" Demolisher hissed, shoving Snowcat. "I think it's Inferno talking."

How did they know Inferno?

"I'm glad you went out there today, Rewound," Inferno said casually, ignoring his question. "I think Optimus Prime is a little concerned about how few reports of Transformers in the junkyard seem to be genuine. But since you didn't find anything either, obviously there's nothing there, correct?"

"What the slag are ya talking about?" Rewound demanded. "What seventeen sightings? Who on Cybertron is Wheeljack? And are ya blind, or can't ya see the two guys right in front of—"

"REWOUND!"

Snowcat and Demolisher took a step away from Rewound. When his audio sensors stopped trying to stab his CPU with a blunt knife, he squeaked, "Yes… sir?"

"This conversation could be recorded. I recommend you keep your facts consistent. Weren't you insisting a moment ago that nothing was here?" Inferno asked sharply. "The junkyard is empty. Is this correct or not?"

"Uh… c-correct, sir," Rewound stuttered, utterly lost.

"Good," Inferno said. "You'll have to come back to the High Command Center to file a report, and that should be all you're needed for."

"Whoopeeeee." Confused or not, Rewound knew filing reports was bad news.

Ignoring him, Inferno said, "I'll expect you back here in thirty minutes."

"Yeah, fine," Rewound muttered and turned off his comlink. He'd probably be there in fifty minutes. Assuming he could find his way out of the junkyard again.

"Hey, you didn't tell us you were workin' with Inferno," Snowcat said, sounding a lot more friendly than Rewound would expect after what just happened.

"I don't work for Inferno," Rewound said. "How do ya know him, anyway?"

"Oh, during the Second Unicron War, we knocked him around pretty bad almost every battle. Most of the other Autobots too. They're all wusses," Snowcat said proudly. "And now Inferno keeps everyone off track when they head to the junkyard. I guess something Megatron did to him stuck after all."

"'Resurrection War,' not 'Second Unicron War.' Autobot media says so," Demolisher told Snowcat, then said to Rewound, "Looks like Inferno's corrupting rookies' minds now, too."

"Oh, I see," Rewound lied. "So, where's the road outta here?"

"You either know it or you don't. You don't." Snowcat giggled at himself, then leaped up the side of the slope in two bounds. "Yo! We need a guide to get this Autobot out of here. He's working for Inferno."

"I don't work for Inferno!" Rewound repeated.

A Minicon jumped completely over the slope and landed in front Rewound, even more at ease in the junkyard than Snowcat was. He looked up at Rewound and beeped twice.

"Er… hi," Rewound said. He couldn't understand Minicons in the slightest. "So, do ya know the way out of here?"

The Minicon nodded, and then unleashed a torrent of beeping.

After Rewound had been suffering for several minutes, Demolisher said, "Maybe you should just show him."

The Minicon paused, beeped what Rewound hoped was an affirmative, and then set off through the junkyard at a sprint. He scrambled as well as he could to keep up.


	4. Chapter 4

_So so sorry it took so long to update this. School, that horrible distraction... thingie. Anyway, here it is now, the last segment of Hypocrite. Enjoy!_

_Hmm. This is the first time I've actually finished a multichapter fic on I'm pleased. :D_

Hypocrite

Chapter 4

"Rewound, do you have any idea what happened?" Inferno asked. He glanced at Rewound, who had once again claimed Inferno's chair upon entering his office; Rewound was leaning back, arms crossed, swiveling the chair back and forth, glaring suspiciously at Inferno. "Apparently not," he said tiredly, sitting in the chair in front of his desk.

"How'm I supposed to know anything?" Rewound said angrily. "First ya threatened to get me arrested, then ya said there was nothin' there, and then ya started talking about all sorts of crazy stuff. And who's Wheeljack?"

"Wheeljack isn't important," Inferno said. "He was another Decepticon, a lieutenant in the Minicon War and First Unicron War."

"And someone thought they saw him in the junkyard too?" Rewound asked.

"Someone _did_ see him. I did recon and found him myself. When I reported back to High Command, I said there was nothing there." Inferno sat back and looked at Rewound as if that should explain everything.

"Okay…" Rewound said slowly. "What, ya didn't recognize him or something?"

Inferno didn't say anything for a moment. For some reason, Rewound had a feeling that he was slowly counting to ten. "Rewound, I know you saw more Transformers than Snowcat and Demolisher there. What did you think of them?"

Rewound shrugged. "I dunno. They seemed okay?" From the look on Inferno's face, that was the wrong answer. He might get out of here quicker if he gave an honest answer.

"They're gettin' a lot of slag for no reason," Rewound said. "They're getting rusty and have to use light bulbs to see 'cause the Autobots won't let them in Iacon. The Autobots are s'posed to be protecting the innocent guys from trouble, but they're the slaggers that made them go out there. If that's what Autobots do, then I'm quitting." Perhaps that was a little too honest, Rewound thought.

"You do realize that answers like that will get you arrested, don't you?" Inferno said.

Definitely too honest.

"But you did see what I wanted you to see," Inferno said. "The Autobots are subjecting innocent Transformers to all sorts of things they never deserved, simply because they became paranoid about the Decepticons at the exact moment the Decepticons became harmless."

"But the Decepticons are psycho killers, aren't they?" Rewound asked.

"They were, under Megatron's rule in the Resurrection War. Before then, for the most part they were just like the Autobots. And then Megatron came, rallied a few of his former troops with a few promises of revenge against the Autobots, and proceeded to wreak havoc on Cybertron and the rest of the universe in the name of the Decepticons." Inferno's optics narrowed slightly, and his mouth curved in a small frown. It wasn't much, but it was the most visible emotion Rewound had ever seen on Inferno.

"When he died, the Decepticons left on Cybertron were sick of war and everything associated with it. But the Autobots went into a frenzy, determined to destroy all Decepticons to prevent what Megatron had done from happening ever again. And along with the Decepticons they dragged down the Terrorcons, who had worked for Megatron in the Resurrection War, and the Minicons, whose language and culture were just odd enough to scare the Autobots all over again." Inferno spread his hands in a wide shrug. "So, the Autobots are destroying everyone else, just in case they want to start a war again. After all, we have to protect peace, don't we?" he ended ironically.

Rewound stared at Inferno in shock. "That's disgusting," he spat, standing up. "How do ya live with yerself? Ya just said they don't deserve it, so why are ya helping the 'Bots? What are ya, too big a coward to say something?"

Inferno's optics flickered. "Excuse me?"

"Ya ALWAYS talk about this stuff, but ya don't do anything about it! What's wrong with ya?" Rewound demanded. He was finally asking the questions that had been writhing around in his CPU since the day he'd met Inferno, and Inferno was just staring back at him. "Ya should be goin' to every jail in Iacon and shooting open every door if ya mean it! And ya just sit here!"

"Then why aren't you shooting the doors?" Inferno asked coldly.

Rewound didn't answer. Why wasn't he? Was he just a coward, too?

"If we did that, we'd be killed, and that would be the end of any grand revolutions," Inferno said. "I'm doing what I can. Over two thousand Minicons, Terrorcons, and Decepticons live in the junkyard because I keep it from being investigated. I've saved hundreds more from being discovered in normal society. I'm one of Optimus Prime's most trusted officers, but I haven't arrested or even fought a single Decepticon since the end of the Resurrection War."

"Ya mean… ya aren't a 'Bot?"

"I am an Autobot. That's why I'm doing this. Autobots don't just stand and watch innocent Cybertronians die." He smiled, that same smile that drove Rewound insane, the one he could never understand. But now, he did. "I'm more of an Autobot than any of the ones calling for the death of the Decepticons. If you're looking for 'psycho killers,' start with them."

Inferno wasn't a hypocrite at all. In fact, among all the Autobots, Rewound realized, Inferno stuck by his words better than any of the others. He stood by his promise to protect life, peace, and all that other slag. Rewound was impressed. Of course, he'd never admit it.

"Rewound, you don't agree with what the Autobots are doing to the Decepticons, do you?" Inferno asked.

"Slag no," Rewound said.

"Then you don't have to do it. You can help the others; several of us already do." Inferno stretched one hand across the desk. "What do you think?"

Rewound regarded Inferno's hand, trying not to look excited. Become a rebel? Work against the law? Fight against regular society? Join an underground cross-faction conspiracy? He thought he could cry with joy. Instead, he said, "Do I have to go through some kinda initiation?"

"You just have to promise not to say anything that might compromise yourself or our group. Like what you said about your black market deals."

"Hey, where else am I supposed to get high-grade that cheap?" Rewound protested. "Wait. Ya meant the other black market deals…"

"That's exactly what you shouldn't say," Inferno said. "So, are you in?"

"Yeah, I'll do it" Rewound said, shaking Inferno's hand.

Inferno smiled. "In that case, welcome." He handed Rewound two datapads. "These are for you."

"What are they?" Rewound asked.

"One's a map of the junkyard. You'll need it until you figure out how to navigate it yourself. After that, destroy it," Inferno said. "The other one…"

Rewound turned it on and groaned.

"… is the report you have to write. You're not leaving until it's finished. And try not to say anything stupid."


End file.
